


with both hands (the held remix)

by starksnack



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drowning, Kiss of Life, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/pseuds/starksnack
Summary: Steve hates that Tony has been stretched too thin after Siberia. Hates that he went back on his promise of forever. Hates and hates and hates. But he doesn't hate Tony. He hates the idea of desperately needing a second chance. But he'll take what he can get.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51
Collections: 2021 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Madness





	with both hands (the held remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [masterlokisev159](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterlokisev159/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hold me up and don't let go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180842) by [masterlokisev159](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterlokisev159/pseuds/masterlokisev159). 
  * In response to a prompt by [masterlokisev159](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterlokisev159/pseuds/masterlokisev159) in the [2021_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2021_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness) collection. 



> thanks to my incredible beta who will be revealed after the event.

There’s a lot Steve has to atone for. He knows that, and thinks about it often, even though the very thought grates against his nerves and presses against the tender spots in his mind that won’t heal until he lets them.

He won’t let them. He deserves it.

Ultron had called him  _ god’s righteous man _ once, but Steve feels far from it.

He’s far from home, too.

Island hopping has become par for the course for all of them. The American media has begun calling them The Rogues. Steve hates the uneasy feeling that comes with being a fugitive. But he made his bed and he has to lie in it, even if it’s full of broken promises and cuts viciously at his insides every time he tries to breathe. 

The television is on when he comes out of his bedroom; both Sam and Wanda are watching, and he can tell from the tense lines of their bodies that something is wrong. It’s telling that they’re watching the broadcast on mute and a foreign emotion spools on Steve’s chest, uncomfortable and tight. They don’t want him to know what’s on the television.

It has to be Tony.

He hates that they pity him. That they know how much he regrets what happened. He regrets that they followed him halfway around the world only for him to be second-guessing his decision to lead them in the first place.

Because it wasn’t worth it. And no amount of thinking or reasoning or outcomes would ever convince him that he had made the right choice.

There are so many things he could have done differently. He could have talked to Tony about his parents sooner. He could have approached Bucky with Tony, as a team, together, like he had promised. So many different pathways and outcomes and…

Steve trails off in his thoughts. 

Coming to a stop behind the couch, he watches, mesmerised, as Tony is thrown into a wall, a breath hissing out of him as he sees the way the armour has taken even more of a beating, metal pulled back to expose grated skin.

That all happened a week ago.

Now Vision and Wanda are in front of him telling him they need to go back now, Accords be damned, because while everything had gone to shit. Tony has still stuck by them, making weapons and upgrades and gadgets that appear seemingly out of nowhere. Steve has been so grateful for Tony’s unwavering loyalty every time he’s used something Stark made in battle. The least they can do is be there for Tony.

Steve hasn’t seen any paparazzi photos of him lately. Not that he’s been actively looking or anything like that. He just sometimes happens to see what Tony is up to. But the lack of pictures from this last week means that Tony probably hasn’t left the compound and that makes Steve’s heart ache with worry, longing, and loss in equal parts.

Apprehension curdles in Steve’s stomach, sick, as he boards the Quinjet home.

Home. 

It feels good to say. He’s wanted this since the moment he left. Since Siberia when he made the biggest mistake of his life leaving Tony there in the snow.

Steve doesn’t deserve the second chance he knows Tony will freely give him. But he still finds the audacity to take it because he needs Tony like he needs his next breath of air in his lungs.

Before they can get to New York, Vision tells him that something is happening. He’s getting an Assemble alert and Steve’s heart claws its way into his throat as he gives Vision his full attention, prickling anxiety standing the hairs on the back of his neck at attention.

Apparently there is a report of men on the docks with Chitauri weapons and Steve swallows around the sticky lump of guilt in his throat. He knows Tony had nightmares about the wormhole. Knows it like he knows Tony likes his hot chocolate the way Steve’s ma used to make it for him, their fingers gently touching as Steve passes him a cup late at night. Those were the moments Steve cherished him the most, in wonder at the vulnerability Tony allowed him to see.

“What’s our ETA?” Steve asks Clint, knuckles white as his fists clench tight beside him.

He feels like his bones are going to tear through his skin with the force, worry and nausea bubbling up to the surface like hives. There is nothing pleasant about fearing for Tony’s life. Romantic feelings aside, Tony is one of his own. He’s part of Steve’s team and, in this moment, Steve has let him down. He’s let Tony down with every bruise, cut, and scrape that the other man has gotten in battle without Steve there to back him up.

By the time they’re close to the harbour, Steve can see things aren’t going well.

Steve watches through the large windows as Tony goes in alone, flying through the warehouse to try and draw out the attackers. It’s a shitty plan, but it's Steve’s own fault they’re reduced to that. They don’t have the manpower for a more tactical plan and it tugs at Steve’s guilty heartstrings.

As Steve watches Tony fly around, worry rises in his chest when there is no retaliation from whoever they’re supposed to be fighting.

“Alright.” Steve turns to his team, his voice steady despite the uneasiness that laces through it. “We need to take the right--”

A large explosion rocks the quinjet and Steve is thrown off balance, spinning into action and turning to the windows with his heart desperately trying to pound out of his chest. Acrid smoke is pouring out of the warehouse and Steve feels like he can’t breathe even though he’s in the filtered confines of the Quinjet.

“We need to get out there and provide backup right now,” Steve barks, a frantic note to his tone.

“There’s nowhere to land,” Clint replies, anxiety in his own voice and in the way he tugs his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end.

When Steve looks back out the window, he watches, frozen in shock, as the scumbags grab Tony and drag him toward the water.

“No,” Steve whispers, horrified. He hits the lever and the hatch opens at what feels like a snail's pace as adrenaline rockets through his veins. There is nothing else in his world other than saving Tony. 

When they throw Tony into the water, Steve feels paralyzed, his heart breaking.

Steve doesn’t think; he takes a desperate gulping breath as he launches himself off of the ramp and into the surging water below. All he can think about is Tony, beautiful, perfect Tony drowning in memories of Afghanistan and struggling through the murky depths. Tony is so perfectly human, bursting at the seams with incandescent kindness spilling through generous fingers like he has Midas’ touch. Steve remembers seeing a speech where Tony had confidently called himself a phoenix metaphor personified and Steve will do anything he can to make sure Tony’s fiery sparky isn’t extinguished by the suffocating ocean.

Tony doesn’t deserve to die trapped in his worst nightmare.

Normally, diving head-first into the freezing cold Atlantic would be enough to have memories of the ice resurfacing, but all Steve can think about is Tony and getting to him because Steve is not cut out to be blubbering through a eulogy so soon. Not for the man he loves.

Because he loves Tony. He wishes it hadn’t taken a war for him to recognise that.

Squinting into the black water, Steve thanks his lucky stars for the augmented vision granted to him by the serum while cursing it at the same time, because he can see exactly how motionless Tony is as he sinks to the bottom, dragged down by his greatest creation.

The bubbles spilling out of Tony’s mouth are worrying and that jars Steve into action as his heart jerks into his chest.

Cutting through the water in strong strokes, Steve grabs Tony’s shoulders, fingers digging into the shirt he’s wearing and grateful for the soft, calming light of the arc reactor washing over him, colours playing off each other in the water.

Leaning forward, Steve firmly presses his lips to Tony’s. He panics when he can’t feel Tony inhale, gently squeezes his side to force a gasping breath out of him and pushes air into the other man’s mouth until his own lungs are empty.

With that, Steve rearranges Tony into a rescue tow, sliding his arm under Tony’s body and strongly kicking upwards with the power of his whole legs. They break the surface in seconds and Steve’s heart sighs in relief as he hears Tony sputtering, expelling the water in his lungs. It’s undeniably painful for him, Steve knows from experience, but at least it means Tony is alive.

As long as he’s alive, Steve has a second chance.

He grabs it with both hands.


End file.
